Birth of Fear
by GlambertTheHedgehog123
Summary: As an infant, Jonathan Crane was abandoned by his selfish mother and forced to live his childhood with his religiously fanatic great-grandmother, Marion Keeny. This story tells of the struggles and sorrows Jonathan faced as a young boy and into adulthood and tells of how he became the terrifying criminal that plagues Gotham City, the Scarecrow.
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

It was a dark, cold, october night. The rain came down like bullets, spraying water up as it crashed against the pavement. A woman ran stealthy through the streets, her grey torn up cloak flopping in the harsh breeze. In her arms, she carried a crying baby. The baby fidgeted as she ran, trying to find a comfortable position, but ultimately failing.

"Hush, child!" Commanded the woman in a loud whisper. "You'll draw attention to us!" The baby looked up at its mother, its big blue eyes shining in the glow of the streetlamp. She looked away in disgust and continued to run as fast as she could out of the city. Eventually, she made it to a large church-like building on a brown grassy hill just on the outside of the city. She lifted the gargoyle-faced knocker and slammed it against the door quickly and repeatedly.

"Grandmother!" Called the woman. "Grandmother, please! Open the door!" A few moments later, a tall, skinny, and elderly woman opened the door and stood staring down at the young woman. She was dressed in a long black dress the covered any trace of skin on her body with grey gloves to match. Across her neck she wore a golden cross and had glasses with the words "Jesus is watching" engraved on the side.

"Karen," she said, her voice raspy and sinister, "what are you doing here?"

"Grandmother," said Karen panting, "I-I have made a terrible mistake and I cannot bear the consequences of my actions." The old woman raised her grey eyebrow at her granddaughter.

"What are you talking about?" A flash of lightning and a boom of thunder echoed frightened the baby in Karen's arms, making it squeal and cry. Karen sighed and revealed the small, dark-haired, blue-eyed baby to her grandmother.

"Please, Grandmother," begged Karen, "you must take it from me! I won't survive as long as it is in my possession. The burden is too much for me!" Karen's grandmother stared down at the infant, who winced and hid its face in its mother's chest at the sight of the ancient woman.

"Cowardly little beasty," said the old woman. She looked up back at Karen and said, "Where is its father?"

"He abandoned me," replied Karen, tears building up in her eyes. "I tried leaving it with Mother, but she refused and told me it was my own fault. Please, Grandmother, you are all the hope I have left. Take the child, please! I'll die if I have to raise it! It will only rob me of food and strength. At least here it can take care of you in your old age. Please, please! You must help!" The old woman scowled at her granddaughter in disappointment, then took the infant in her arms.

"You seem truly penitent for your sin, Granddaughter. I will do what Jesus would have done and take your child in as my own."

"Thank you, Grandmother," said Karen, a smile growing on her face. "I owe you a huge debt. Bless you."

"May God have mercy on your soul, Karen." Karen kissed her Grandmother's hand and bowed to her, showing her respect and gratitude. The elderly woman looked down at the infant, who was reaching for his mother and looking at her longingly. "What is the child's name?" Karen, who was just about to leave, turned back around to face her grandmother and sighed.

"Jonathan," she replied, "Jonathan Crane."

"Hmm," said the old woman, lifting up the baby, who was still struggling to get back to his mother, "a name that means 'God has given'...perhaps this child was meant to be with me." The old woman scowled at her granddaughter. "Get out of here, Karen. Now!" Karen nodded and fled into the darkness of the night. Her son, Jonathan, cried and fidgeted, reaching out his hands for his mother as he watched her leave.

"Silence, child!" Screamed the old woman as she shook the baby. Terrified, the baby winced and trembled at the sound of his great-grandmother's voice. "There's a good lad," she said and lowered him down onto an old, dusty, and rotting wood crib in the attic of her medieval home. She placed a torn quilt over the baby and gently ran her bony fingers across the baby's forehead. Jonathan whimpered and sobbed lightly, calling for his mother the only way an infant could.

"Hush now, little Jonathan," said his great-grandmother, "Jesus will protect you as you dream. Now you must keep quiet, or you will attract the spiders that make their home in this attic." The baby cooed, slowly closing its eyes and drifting off to sleep. "Sweet dreams, beasty," mumbled the old woman, closing the door to the attic, "Tomorrow your new life begins."

The next morning, baby Jonathan's great-grandmother, Marion Keeny, woke him up at exactly 5:00am with the banging of cooking pans. The baby cried in surprise, confused and scared of the loud unknown noise that awoke him. Marion, impatient and angry, covered the child's mouth with her hand until it stopped crying from lack of oxygen.

"Time to pray, Jonathan," she said, a crooked smile on her face. "You must pray if you wish to go to heaven." The infant yawned and rubbed his bright blue eyes with his tiny fists. Marion carried the child into a dark flame-lit room and laid him down on the carpet in front of the fireplace, right next to her. She readied herself to pray and tried to make Jonathan do the same. However, the child would fuss and, being as small as he was, did not understand what was being asked of him. Frustrated, the old woman found a piece of rope and used it to tie the baby's hands together, making it look like he was ready to pray. In pain and discomfort, the baby cried while his great-grandmother tried to pray.

"No, Jonathan!" She slapped the infant across his face and growled. "You must listen to the word of God in silence! DO NOT MAKE A SOUND!" The baby cried in pain and the woman slapped him yet again.

Days went on like this, then weeks, then months, then years, each day repeating the cycle of pain and suffering for the young infant. Eventually, after two years, Jonathan learned to remain quiet and not make any sort of noise at all, let alone cry. And Jonathan would continue to grow and change into something much more than his mother or his great-grandmother could have ever imagined.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Jonathan!" The boy awoke with a gasp.

"Oh no," he said, rolling out of bed, "Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Quickly, the young boy put on his hand-me-down coat and tie. He struggled to put on his oversized pants as he exited his bedroom, hopping on one foot down the stairs. Jonathan had been dealing with his great-grandmother's tyranny for eight years now and because of this, he knew it was not wise to keep her waiting on a Sunday morning. He was always so careful not to sleep in, but just like for every child, there was something about the weekend that made it more and more difficult to wake up early.

"Jonathan, you lazy boy," yelled Marion, "if I have to go upstairs and drag you down by your ear, I'll do it!"

"I'm coming, Grandmother!" Called Jonathan as he tied his belt around his waist and zipped up his pants. He ran down the rest of the stairs, panting as he did so, but was stopped short when he bumped into his great-grandmother's behind. He gulped as the old woman slowly turned around to greet him with a scowl. "G-Good morning, Grandmother," said Jonathan with a small smile, trying to brownnose her. "You look lovely today." Marion slapped Jonathan across his left cheek hard, leaving a red mark.

"Flattery is the work of the devil! You've made us late to the Sunday mass with your childish laziness! You better pray Jesus doesn't strike you down as soon as we leave this house." Jonathan hung his head in shame, tears building up in his large blue eyes, but he was careful to make sure they did not escape.

"I-I'm sorry, Grandmother. It won't happen again, I promise."

"Oh," said Marion, gripping Jonathan's wrists with her long bony fingers, "I'll make sure it won't." She yanked the small and skinny boy's arm and dragged him out of the house. For an old woman, Marion was rushing incredibly quickly to get to church on time. The two arrived at Gotham Catholic Church about 15 minutes after the mass began. The priest was leading the group in the first hymn as Jonathan and his great-grandmother took a seat in the back pew. Throughout the whole mass, Marion kept her eyes closed, her hands clasped together around blue rosary beads, and mumbled to herself in latin. Jonathan sat with his hands clasped together and kept his head down, trying to stay invisible from the rest of the world. He was incredibly shy and never wanted to draw any attention to himself.

"God," he whispered in his fists, "I know you have more important people to look after than me, which is probably why you haven't answered me before, but...if it's not too much trouble, I could really use some help...Please?" Jonathan looked up at the gorgeously painted church ceiling, waiting for something, anything to happen. He sighed with disappointment and rested his head against his fists. "Amen..."

"Jonathan," whispered Marion angrily, "stand up! The priest is speaking!" Jonathan did as he was told and rose to his feet.

"I'd like to thank you all for attending this morning's mass," said the priest, "It is such a wonderful feeling knowing that the all the crime and tragedy that has plagued Gotham for so long isn't enough to keep good people from losing their faith. God smiles down on each and every one of you today." Jonathan smiled a little, feeling proud that he had done something good for once. "Before we part, I'd like to say a prayer for those living on the streets. There is a basket going around the church as we speak. I encourage you to do your duty as children of Christ and make a donation to those who are not as fortunate as you all are."

"There are people who have it worse?" Thought Jonathan, scratching the top of his head.

"Excuse me," Jonathan turned and saw an older woman standing on the outside of the pew. She was carrying a long stick with a basket at the end of it. "Would you like to make a donation for the poor?"

"Um..." replied Jonathan, looking down shyly at the floor, "I-I'd like to...but...um..."

"No thank you," interrupted Marion, placing her hand on Jonathan's chest and moving him behind her.

"Oh please," said the basket woman, "the homeless are freezing to death this time of year. Even the smallest donation counts." Jonathan reached into his pocket and pulled out three quarters. He had found them wedged between the floorboards of his room the day before. He was planning on saving them, but he felt that if even the smallest bit counts, why not give it to someone who needs it more?

"Grandmother," he whispered softly, tugging on her dress, "Grandmother, I want to donate these. Can you give them to lady?" Marion shot her great-grandson an icy cold scowl and slapped the quarters out of the child's hand.

"We have little money as it is, child," she growled, "Why should we throw away what we have to filthy sinners?" Jonathan scrambled to the floor, trying to find the fallen quarters, but Marion pulled him up by the collar of his shirt before he could. "Move along," said Marion to the basket woman, "Find someone else to aid the devil!" The basket woman kept her head down and scampered away from their pew as quickly as she could. "Come Jonathan," said Marion, grasping her great-grandson's arm, "the mass is over!" Jonathan winced silently as he felt his great-grandmother's long nails puncturing his skin. He followed her as she pulled him back to their solitary home at the top of a hill just outside of Gotham. She threw him into the living room and locked the front door behind them.

"You were a bad boy, Jonathan," said Marion in an eerily calm voice, "And you know what happens to bad boys." Jonathan began to breathe fast in fear.

"G-Grandmother, please," he begged, "I-I didn't mean to be bad, I-I just-"

"First," interrupted Marion as she slowly began removing her grey gloves, finger by finger, "you make us late for Sunday mass. Then, you try and aid the devil by giving his pathetic demons money to go and play their fiendish games."

"Grandmother, I'm sorry!" Marion gripped Jonathan's ear tightly, making it bleed. He groaned with pain, but that only made her squeeze tighter.

"Time for little Jonathan to pray for forgiveness!" She dragged Jonathan by his bleeding ear through the house, the young boy struggling to get away, but to no avail.

"No Grandmother!" Screamed Jonathan, tears of pain leaking out of his eyes. "Please! Please, Grandmother! Anything but the crows! Please!" Jonathan's screams echoed throughout the empty house. He banged and kicked his feet against the floor, trying to make any sort of noise, praying in his mind that someone, anyone, would hear his cries for help, but they were too far away from anything to attract any sort of attention. The pale wooden door creaked as Marion opened it, revealing a dilapidated church on the other side. There was a crumbling statue of Jesus in the back and broken stained glass windows all over the walls. Resting on the pieces of the windows were several swarms of crows, with feathers black as night and long sharp beaks. Marion threw Jonathan into the ancient church and slammed the door shut before he could run out. She pulled out a rusty bronze key and locked the door behind her.

"You pray, little boy," yelled Marion as she turned the key in the lock, "pray for forgiveness! You may come out when you've learned to be a good boy!"

"No!" Screamed Jonathan, scratching at the door, leaving claw marks in the already worn down wood. "Grandmother please!" The crows hunched on the broken glass windows flew down, their beaks aimed directly for Jonathan. The birds began to peck aggressively at Jonathan, making the boy fall to the ground and tremble in fear. He yelped in pain as the birds' beaks pierced his flesh, tearing at his cheeks, arms, legs, and some even went for his eyes. He closed his bright blue eyes tightly and waved his hands in an attempt to get the crows away from him, but it was no use. The birds relentlessly torn at his flesh and his clothes, ripping his pants and shirt. Jonathan cried as his body stung from the cuts and bruises the crows were giving him. Minutes went by, but it felt like hours. Jonathan feared that it would never end. Then, just when they had pecked at almost every part of his body, a whistle blew and the crows cawed in agony. They flew away just as quickly as they came and Marion stood at the doorway, tapping her foot impatiently. Jonathan's whole body trembled as he rose to his feet. He whimpered as he walked to his great-grandmother's side.

"Have you learned to be a good boy?" Marion's voice was cold and vicious, like an angry schoolteacher. Her gaze was unloving, with no sense of mercy in it at all. Her little grandson nodded his head, his eyes full of tears and cheeks cut up from the crows. Marion reached out her hand to the little boy, who took it immediately. She led Jonathan out of the church and into the bathroom, where she gently cleaned his wounds, then took him up to his attic bedroom.

"Goodnight, Jonathan," said Marion, standing in the doorway, "May God give you pleasant dreams." She slammed the door shut and Jonathan could hear her shoes clapping against the wood as she walked down the steps. Jonathan sighed as he laid down in his cot and pulled over the torn and hole-ridden quilt over himself. He closed his eyes tight and tried so hard not to cry. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't prevent one single tear from escaping out of his left eye as he thought about his great-grandmother's disapproving gaze and the frightening sound of the crows cawing in his ears.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"_Mommy!" Jonathan chased a tall young woman down an empty dark tunnel, her grey cloak flowing in the breeze. "Mommy, please! Wait for me!" The little boy ran as fast as he could, using all the strength that he had in his skinny legs to reach her. When he got close enough, he reached for her cloak, but she vanished instantly. "Mommy?" Jonathan searched for her frantically. "Mommy, please, where are you?! I need you, Mommy!" Suddenly, sound erupted from the other end of the tunnel. With a gasp, Jonathan turned around and saw a swarm of red-eyed crows headed his way. The boy began to sprint, breathing fast and hard as he did so. His mother, a grey-cloaked figure stood at the end of the tunnel, waiting and watching. _

"_Mommy, help!" The woman didn't move. Then, a crow landed on Jonathan's ankle and pecked it hard, making him fall to the ground. With a yelp, Jonathan landed against the cold hard ground, shaking his foot to try and get the crow off of him. It was no use. With all the strength he had left, Jonathan crawled closer to his mother, the tip of her foot just out of his grasp. "Mommy," he cried as more crows covered his body, "help me! Please, help me!" As the crows began to swallow him up, Jonathan saw his mother kneel down and shake her head. She looked him directly in the eyes, revealing hers to be glowing white holes. _

"_You are not my son." _

Jonathan woke with a gasp, panting heavily, tears building in his eyes, his back soaked with sweat. He looked around his room, searching for any crows or perhaps his mother. Neither caught his eye. He sighed with both relief and disappointment, then looked at the clock that hung from the wall. 7:25. Immediately, he jumped out of his bed and rushed to the pile of clothes on the ground. He grabbed a brown long-sleeve shirt, a pair of old blue jeans, and his worn down sneakers. He changed out of his pajamas and into the outfit he chose, brushed his hair back so it was neat and straight, brushed his teeth, washed his face, then headed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Jonathan," said Marion, cutting a hard baguette in half. "Ready for school already?" The little boy nodded and picked up his school bag, which rested against the wall. "Very good." Marion tossed one half of the bread to the little boy, who caught it in his hands after it hit his stomach. "Learn well, Jonathan," said Marion as Jonathan headed for the door, "T'was Jesus that said knowledge was the source of all good."

"Yes, Grandmother," replied Jonathan, opening the front door, "Of course. Goodbye." Jonathan shut the door behind him and began walking down the dead grass hill towards the city. Jonathan always enjoyed the walk to school, mostly because he was by himself. He liked the calm breeze and the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees. Jonathan munched on his dry and slightly hard baguette piece as he walked into the city of Gotham. He kept his head down as he walked by people, making sure not to make eye contact. When it comes to Gotham City, you never know what kind of weirdo you'll run into on the street. After a few minutes of walking, Jonathan could see the school ahead. However, before he rushed to school, he stopped in front of a store just a few buildings away.

"Jervis's Jolly Good Books," read the sign, "_You'll go mad for our books!"_ Jonathan smiled a little with a chuckle, then walked through the front door. A tiny bell rang as he entered the tiny book shop.

"I'll be right with you!" Called a shrill voice from the back. While he waited for assistance, Jonathan walked around the store and marveled at its unique appearance. Everywhere he turned there were oddities. Stuffed bunny rabbits in suits rested on the bookshelves, large playing cards were hung up on the walls, neon green paint splattered everywhere, and finally, a bouquet of white roses with red paint dripping from them rested nicely on the paying counter. Jonathan smiled as he touched a china tea set that was on top of one of the bookshelves. This was the most amusing bookstore he had ever seen before.

"Can I help you, dear sir?" Jonathan gasped in surprise as a tall teenager seemed to appear behind him. He was dressed in a light blue suit with a large green top hat and had white gloves covering his hands. His voice was surprisingly high for someone that Jonathan deduced to be about the age of 18, and he spoke with a british accent. Jonathan also noticed that his teeth were quite messed up, but then again, Jonathan's weren't perfect, so he didn't judge.

"Um..." said Jonathan practically in a whisper, his blue eyes looking shyly at the floor, "I-I was just...looking for a book..."

"A book, you say?" Asked the teen enthusiastically. Jonathan nodded quickly, taking one tiny look up before his eyes darted back to the floor. "Well come, come quick, little boy! I know just the book for you!" Jonathan giggled softly as he watched the teen fumble and skip to the other side of the room. He followed slowly until the teen gestured for him to stop. "Here," said the eccentric teen, pointing to his gloved hand, "is the book you seek." Confused, Jonathan examined the teen's hand, looking above and below it, but finding no book.

"Um..." said Jonathan, "I-I don't mean to be rude, but, um, there's no book in your hand." Jonathan poked the teen's hand with his index finger. "See?" The teenager laughed loudly, making Jonathan take a step back in slight fear, then he spoke.

"Oh how silly of me!" Laughed the teenager. "I forgot to make it appear! Watch closely." The teen began waving his free hand over the other, catching Jonathan's attention and making him move closer. Suddenly, with one final wave, the book appeared in the teen's hand. Jonathan gasped with delight and smiled a little, amused and intrigued by the trick.

"How did you do that?" He asked taking the book in his hands. The teen smiled with a chuckle.

"I want you to guess. Go on, guess!"

"Hmm," Jonathan scanned the book itself, looking for bends or breaks that would make it easy to hide, then he scanned the teenager. "I think you hide it in your sleeve, then pushed it out when I wasn't looking." The teen smiled and ruffled up Jonathan's hair.

"Clever boy! Such a clever, clever, boy indeed!" Jonathan smiled and blushed lightly, feeling an odd sensation within him.

"Is this what happiness feels like?" He thought.

"What's your name, clever boy?" Asked the teenager, tapping Jonathan's nose.

"Jonathan," he replied, "Jonathan Crane. What's your name?" The teenager laughed and removed his hat, holding it to his chest.

"Jervis, Jervis Tetch." Jervis bowed with respect to Jonathan. "It is an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jonathan." Jonathan took a step back, surprised by Jervis's action, then he let out a small laugh. "Now," said Jervis, rising back up and placing his hat back on his head, "let's ring you up, shall we?" Jervis skipped gleefully behind the counter and tapped a few keys on the cash register. Jonathan gasped and bit his lip sadly and nervously.

"Jervis, I-I...," he said hesitantly, "I don't have any money..." Jervis stopped for a moment, looking quite distraught.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he said. He was about to come and take the book back, but then he saw the look on Jonathan's face. The young boy was looking down at the book longingly, sighing sadly, then he held it up for Jervis to take. Jervis gave Jonathan a friendly half-smile and said, "You know what? Because you've been an absolute delight, you can keep that book free of charge." Jonathan gasped with a smile.

"Really?!" Jervis nodded.

"Take good care of it! It's my favorite. I do so hope you enjoy it!" Jonathan looked down at the book cover and read the title aloud in a whisper.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll." He looked back up at Jervis, who was looking at a pocket watch he pulled out of his suit pocket.

"Hurry along now, Jonathan," he said, "or you'll be late!" Jonathan gasped and scurried out of the bookstore as fast as he could. He sprinted down the street, dodging cars and angry pedestrians to get to school. He ran through the doors of Gotham Elementary School and straight down the halls until he reached room 122. He opened the door and ran to his seat, throwing his bag under the desk.

"Well, well, well," said his teacher, a fat elderly woman in a pink dress, "Jonathan Crane. Just in the nick of time, as usual. Try to get here early next time, okay?" The other children giggled as Jonathan sheepishly hid his face by looking down.

"Y-Yes ma'am..." A paper ball hit the back of Jonathan's head as his teacher proceeded with roll call. He picked up the ball, which fell beside his feet, and unrolled it.

"Hand-me-down," read the paper. Then another struck his back, and another, and another. Jonathan sighed.

"Another great school day," he thought. Then he reached into his backpack and pulled out the book he got from Jervis. Reading would distract him from the harsh world that surrounded him.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Class," said Mrs. Fletcher, "can anyone tell me what two times two is?" The class remained completely silent. "Anyone?" Mrs. Fletcher walked down the aisles of desks, examining each student, preparing to call on one. One particular student caught her eye. He had his nose in a book and was completely out of touch with the world around him. "Jonathan?" The boy didn't move a muscle. "Jonathan!" The boy jumped out of his seat in surprise, making the other students giggle.

"Y-Yes, Mrs. Fletcher?" Mrs. Fletcher smiled a strangely fiendish smile.

"Since you were paying _such_ good attention, could please tell the class what two times two is?" Jonathan placed a piece of paper in his book to save his place, then played with his fingers timidly.

"U-Um...t-the answer is...u-um..."

"Scarecrow's too stupid to know," whispered one of the boys in the back row, making the entire row light up in snickers.

"Four," answered Jonathan, "two times two i-is four." Mrs. Fletcher smirked and said,

"You're lucky you're smart, Jonathan," then she continued on with the lesson. The student behind Jonathan flicked the back of his head with a pencil.

"Nice work, weirdo." Jonathan winced as if the insult had pierced his chest. Ever since kindergarten, Jonathan wasn't popular with his peers. They found his quiet and reserved nature to be peculiar and used it as an excuse to taunt and ridicule him. Then again, they seemed to use everything as an excuse to taunt and ridicule him. Mrs. Fletcher's teaching and the mocking from his peers became muffled and eventually drowned out as Jonathan went deeper and deeper into his book. Eventually, the school bell rang for lunch and all the students rushed out the door to get the best seats. While everyone was busy, Jonathan carefully packed up his notebook and pencils, grabbed his paper-bagged lunch, zipped up his bag, placed it on his back, and headed for the door.

"Jonathan," said Mrs. Fletcher from her desk, "could you come here for a moment?" Jonathan walked over to his teacher's desk, keeping his eyes low to the ground.

"A-Am I in trouble?" Asked the little boy. Mrs. Fletcher shook her head.

"No, Jonathan," she replied, "I just want to talk to about something."

"Talk about what?" Asked the boy, taking a quick glance up at his teacher. Mrs. Fletcher rose to her feet and walked over to Jonathan, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Jonathan," she said softly, "do you...have a lot of friends in class?" The little boy bit his bottom lip, hesitant to answer. He didn't know what he should say. If he said yes, he'd be lying, but if he said no, he was worried the teacher would think there was something wrong with him. So he nodded quickly and kept his eyes level to the floor.

"Mmhmm." Mrs. Fletcher placed her finger at the tip of Jonathan's chin and raised up his face so he was looking at her. Though face to face with his teacher, Jonathan kept his gaze away from hers, looking up at the ceiling or on the floor. Mrs. Fletcher sighed and placed her hands in her lap.

"Jonathan, how would you like to go to Mr. Martin's class after recess? There are plenty of kids who would-"

"No!" Interrupted Jonathan, a little louder than he wanted. Mrs. Fletcher looked at him in shock, surprised to hear the shy little boy raising his voice. Jonathan gulped and looked down at his feet. "I-I...I don't need to go to Mr. Martin's class, Mrs. Fletcher...I have friends, I really do." Mr. Martin was Gotham Elementary's school counselor. The children that were sent to his class were considered troubled, disabled, or socially impaired. He knew that the torment he received from his classmates would only get worse if he went, plus he knew he didn't belong there. There was nothing wrong with him, it was everybody else that needed fixing.

"Very well, Jonathan," said Mrs. Fletcher. "Head down to lunch before you miss it!" Jonathan nodded and ran out of the classroom and down the steps into the school cafeteria. Most of the children in the cafeteria had already finished their meals and were waiting anxiously for the recess bell to ring. Jonathan proceeded through the cafeteria with his head down, trying to remain invisible to his peers. He saw a few kids from his class sitting at a table in the back and walked over to it. As he got closer to the table, the giggling and chattering from the table became softer and softer, until he finally sat down, then it stopped completely. Jonathan carefully placed his paper bag on the table and opened it up to reveal a small peanut butter and jelly sandwich on wheat bread laying on the bottom. As Jonathan removed the sandwich from his bag, the rest of the children stared at him with disgust.

"Why is he sitting here?" He heard someone whisper. "Did you invite him?"

"No, I swear I didn't."

"Ew, he's so icky."

"Somebody say something." Suddenly, the children sitting across from Jonathan and next to him stood to their feet, grabbed their lunchboxes, and moved to the other end of the table. Jonathan's bright blue eyes looked down at his sandwich sadly, then he began to eat. As he chewed his lunch, he looked down at the other end of the table. He saw two girls braiding each others hair and laughing, he saw two boys trading cards, and he saw a boy and a girl chatting. They all looked so happy...Jonathan turned to his left, then to his right, then finally straight ahead. No one. It had been this way for as long as he could remember. There was never anyone around that wanted to talk to him...No one ever even tried.

"Am I a bad person?" Thought little Jonathan. "Did I do something wrong? Why doesn't anyone wanna talk to me? I like cards, I bet I could braid someone's hair if I tried...what makes me...different?" Suddenly, Jonathan felt a hard flick at the back of his head.

"Hey loser!" Jonathan turned around and saw a group of 5th graders standing behind him, the largest being the one who flicked him. "You're sitting in our spots." Jonathan gulped the last bit of his sandwich down and picked up his paper bag quickly.

"O-Oh..." he said softly, his hands trembling with anxiety, "I-I didn't know. I'm so sorry. I'll just move and you can have your seats back until recess and then everybody wins, so if you'll excuse me-" One of the 5th graders put his chubby arm in front of Jonathan, blocking him from getting past.

"You think you're getting off that easy?" Asked the biggest boy, cracking his knuckles.

"I don't see why it needs to be hard," said Jonathan, backing up into the table as the boys surrounded him. "I just go, then you sit. See? Everyone gets off easy." The biggest bully grabbed Jonathan by his collar and held him up off the ground. Jonathan's eyes widened as he noticed the other boys raising their fists.

"You've got a smart mouth, freak." The brutish boy smirked devilishly and laughed to his companions. "Let's teach him a lesson, boys."

"No," begged Jonathan, too frozen in fear to struggle, "please! I'm sorry!" The older boys laughed once more as the biggest one raised his arm up to punch. Suddenly, the recess bell rang loud and a crowd of excited children flooded towards them. The biggest bully dropped Jonathan's collar and ran with his friends out the door before a lunch monitor could see them. Jonathan breathed deeply as he stood up, trying his hardest to catch his breath. As quickly as he could, he threw his trash in a nearby bucket and headed out the opposite door to the back of the playground. Keeping an eye out for his bullies, Jonathan snuck through the playground, past all the laughing and playing children, until he found his usually reading spot.

Jonathan's reading spot was a small crack in the school wall that had just enough sunlight beaming into it for Jonathan to see the pages of his book. This spot was Jonathan's little sanctuary because he was the only one small enough and skinny enough to fit inside, keeping him safe from any bullies or distractions. Jonathan crawled into his reading spot and rested his back against the stone wall inside. He smiled as he opened his book to the marked page he left off on and began to read.

"Hello, Jonathan!" Jonathan looked up to see a tall boy with light brown hair and two eyes that were not only magnified by his glasses, but even seemed to be glowing their green color. The boy was much taller than Jonathan and looked older too. Jonathan had never seen him in any of his classes before, so he deduced that the boy had to be a fourth or fifth grader.

"D-Do I know-"

"No," interrupted the boy, talking quickly, "but I know you. You're that weird kid who sits by himself all the time. My friend Billy told me that and I asked him, 'Why doesn't he play with anybody? Does he talk to anyone? Does he have any friends?' And Billy was like, 'I don't know,' so I asked, 'Well, why doesn't someone just go and ask him?' And Billy said, 'Why don't you just do it, dummy?' And I was like, 'Okay!' so I-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," said Jonathan, who was confused and annoyed at the same time, "but...I'm almost done with this book and I-"

"What book is it?"

"Alice in Wonderla-"

"Who's it by?" Jonathan looked at the front cover of his book to check the author's name.

"Lewis Carr-"

"Is it good?"

"I, um, I gue-"

"Do you know how it ends?"

"No," answered Jonathan quickly so he could finish his sentence, "I haven't finished it yet."

"Well I do," chuckled the boy as he sat down on the ground in front of the crack. "Want me to tell you what it is? Alice-"

"No!" Said Jonathan angrily. "Don't spoil it for me!"

"Geez," said the boy, removing his glasses and wiping them on his emerald green shirt, "you didn't have to shout. Just saying, 'no,' would've been fine." Jonathan sighed and started to read his book again. He only had four pages left and he figured if he ignored the boy, he would eventually get bored and go away. "So, where'd you get that book anyway? You look too poor to have actually _bought_ that book. Did you steal it?" Jonathan shut his book hard and rested it in his lap.

"I didn't steal it," he said irritated, trying to hold back from shouting, "my friend gave it to me." The boy laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Sure you did, kid."

"But I did!" The boy rose to his feet and wiped the dirt off his pants.

"Sure, sure, I _totally _believe you." Jonathan scowled at the boy, then the bell went off.

"Hey, Edward!" Called a voice in the distance. "C'mon! Mrs. Shay is waiting for you!" The boy gasped, then nodded.

"Okay!" He called back. "Coming!" Before he ran off, the boy smirked at Jonathan and said, "See you around, poor kid! Nice chat!" Jonathan picked up his book, crawled out of his reading spot and ran back inside the school to his classroom. He was the last one to enter his classroom and Mrs. Fletcher stopped him before he could go to his seat.

"Did you have a nice lunch with your friends?" Jonathan looked down and stayed quiet, thinking about how he should respond. "Well?" Jonathan gulped, then nodded his head slowly.

"Y-Yes, Mrs. Fletcher," he replied, "It was so much fun. It felt like a dream."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The sound of the school bell rang obnoxiously throughout the halls as Jonathan shyly walked toward the exit of the elementary school. He followed the massive crowd of laughing and talking children out the large glass doors, then looked up at the sky. It was shrouded in ominous grey clouds with thunder roaring from within them. He decided then that he would make the dreaded decision to take the school bus home. He prefered to walk, but naturally that wouldn't be a smart choice on a day with a thundery-cloud-filled sky. As we walked toward the long yellow and black beast that would drive him home, he watched as some of his classmates ran into the arms of their parents.

"Oh, I missed you so much today, honey!" Exclaimed one of the mothers as she hugged her son tightly. "My special little man." Jonathan heard a loud scream and turned to his left, spying one of his female classmates in the arms of her father. He was holding her up high and blowing on her stomach, making her scream and squeal with delight. Jonathan sighed and held his book to his chest tight, keeping his eyes focused on his feet. In what seemed to take a lifetime, Jonathan finally arrived at the foot of the bus. He carefully grabbed onto the rusty railing and hopped up the large black steps. When he made it to the top, every child stopped and turned to look at him. Embarrassed, Jonathan looked down to hide his blushing and proceeded to search for an available seat. As he moved down the aisle, he could hear his peers mumbling and whispering to each other. He found an empty seat in the middle of the aisle, placed his book down on the edge, and scooted in so he could sit closest to the window. As he was sitting, a young girl in the back row threw half a mustard covered sandwich at Jonathan's back. All the children laughed as Jonathan wiped the messy sandwich off his shirt and onto the floor.

"It's food for your birds, scarecrow!" The children kept laughing and laughing until finally the bus driver said,

"Alright, alright, that's enough now." The children's laughter slowly dwindled and the bus began to move. Jonathan stared longingly out the window, trying his very hardest to resist crying. He looked up at the clouds, imagining what it would be like to go past them, to go somewhere far away from the frightening and cruel world he knew. As he thought, his eyes slowly began to close and eventually he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. As Jonathan slept, the bus stopped several times, returning each child to their street or avenue. Each child was greeted at their door by their smilings mother or father, who would then proceed to shower them with love. Each child anticipated their ride home each day...Each child...except one.

"Kid? Kid, wake up!" Jonathan gasped as his eyes shot open to reveal the bus driver standing beside him. "We're at your stop." Jonathan looked around the bus and saw that everyone else had gone. He picked up his book, shimmied past the bus driver, and finally left the bus.

"Thank you, sir," said Jonathan before the doors closed, "for waking me up." The driver shrugged and drove off, the wheels splashing the dirty street water against the trim of Jonathan's pants. Jonathan sighed and ran up the large hill leading to his distant home as quickly as he could, trying his best to avoid the hard rain that was now coming down.

"Granny!" He called as he banged the large knocker against the wooden door, "Grandmother! It's Jonathan! I'm home! Please open the door! The rain is coming down hard!" No one answered. "Grandmother?! Please, I'm so cold!" Suddenly, Jonathan could hear the sound of Marion's heels clacking against the wooden floor approaching. The door opened slightly and Marion looked down at little Jonathan.

"You're early."

"Y-yes, Grandmother," shivered Jonathan, rubbing his arms trying to keep warm, "I t-took the bus." Marion sneered at her great grandson, then let him in. Jonathan immediately scurried over to the fireplace, placed his hands in the warmth, and sighed with relief. Marion closed the door behind her and walked over to Jonathan, taking a seat carefully on the chair beside him.

"Did you have a productive day of learning, Jonathan?"

"Yes, Grandmother," replied Jonathan, looking up at his grey-clad granny, "I got a question right in class and I finished a whole new book in one day." Marion raised her left eyebrow at her great grandson.

"Did you say, 'new book'?" Jonathan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Do you still have this book?" Jonathan nodded once more and took it out from the inside of his shirt.

"I kept it there so it wouldn't get too wet from the rain. It's a really good book, Grandmother." Marion looked absolutely horrified.

"Where did you get that book?" Jonathan noticed the distressed tone in his grandmother's voice, then backed away from her a few inches.

"M-My friend, Jervis, h-he let me keep it."

"Jervis?!" Shrieked Marion. "That lunatic that claims to be a bookstore clerk?!" Jonathan looked down at his book and winced.

"U-Um..." Marion pointed her long bony finger at Jonathan's nose and bellowed,

"You must never speak to him again! Do you understand? That demon will corrupt your mind and lead you on the path of unholiness!" Jonathan wanted to speak, but knew his words would come with a punishment.

"Okay, Grandmother," he answered sadly, "I won't talk to him anymore." Marion rested her ancient arthritis-ridden hand on Jonathan's head and patted it slowly.

"There's a good lad," she said in a soft yet sinister voice. "Now wash up for supper, then get started on your chores!"

"Yes, Grandmother," said Jonathan as he placed his book in his pants pocket. Just as he was about to leave the room, Jonathan stopped in the doorway separating the bathroom and the main corridor. "G-Grandmother," said Jonathan, turning to face his grandmother, but without the strength to look up at her, "can I ask you a question?" Marion looked suspiciously at Jonathan, but remained calm.

"Questions are a danger to you, Jonathan," she replied, staring down directly at Jonathan's eyes, waiting for him to look up, "and a burden on to others."

"But Grandmother," pleaded Jonathan, "it's an important question."

"Very well," groaned Marion, "if you must ask." Jonathan bit his bottom lip, then looked up at his grandmother.

"At school today," said Jonathan in a much more bold way than usual, "when I was leaving, I saw my classmates getting picked up by their mummas and daddies and I wondered...where are my mommy and daddy?" Marion clasped her hands together and sighed.

"Child," she said in a deep and monotone voice, "your mother and father are gone."

"Are they in heaven?" Asked Jonathan, his bright blue eyes large with sadness. Marion shook her head.

"No, Jonathan. Your mother and father have gone to better places without you." Jonathan's bottom lip began to quiver with sadness.

"W-Why?" He winced. "Why can't I go with them?"

"Because, child," replied Marion with a voice like ice, "they don't want you. They never did. That's why you're here with me. Your mother made me take her burden." Tears began to fill up in Jonathan's eyes as the boy shook his head in disbelief.

"N-No..." he sobbed softly, tears escaping down his cheeks, "no...no...M-Mommy's are supposed to love their babies."

"Your mother didn't love you, Jonathan," said Marion, looking Jonathan directly in his eyes, breaking his heart, "Neither did your father. You weren't even supposed to exist. You were a plague sent down upon them from Jesus to torment them for committing sin." Jonathan placed his face in his hands, crying and still fighting the truth.

"No...no I-I'm not that..." Marion caressed Jonathan's cheek with her thumb, her sharp fingernail scraping his skin.

"I know you aren't, child. And I will make sure that you will never be again." Jonathan closed his eyes tightly and looked away, hoping that when he opened them again, it would just be another nightmare. But deep down, even in his youthful innocence, he knew it was true. "Jonathan." The little boy looked up at his grandmother pouting, his eyes and face red from crying. "You must stop crying. You're ruining your school attire with your disgusting mucus."

Little Jonathan was too tired and weak from heartache to argue. He closed his eyes and nodded as the tears leaked down his smooth cheeks. Marion aggressively wiped Jonathan's cheeks and turned him toward the bathroom.

"Wash up. Supper is getting cold." Jonathan nodded once more and slowly closed the door behind him. Once it was shut, the eight-year-old boy broke down against the door, sobbing intensely into his knees. He hugged his legs closer to his chest, trying to block out the sound and prevent Marion from hearing him cry.

"W-What's wrong with me?" Cried Jonathan softly. "Why didn't mommy and daddy love me?...Why?..." Jonathan kept asking himself over and over as he sobbed on the cold hard bathroom floor. The room felt like it was getting smaller as more and more tears dripped down his face. Little Jonathan had never felt so alone, so in pain. It was too much.

"Jonathan?" Jonathan gasped and immediately washed his face and hands. "Jonathan? Are you done in there? I'm about to feed your supper to the stray cats."

"I'm coming, Grandmother!" Jonathan wiped his face with the hand towel, then looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't see the little boy he usually say every morning. Instead, he saw a demented little devil, one that only causes grief and problems for anything it encounters. Jonathan threw the towel at the mirror and left the bathroom with a small frown on his face. That night, he was too depressed to eat or sleep. He laid awake all night, gazing at the stars through his small attic window. He sometimes wondered what it would be like to watch the stars with his mother, asking her questions about what they really are or how to get to them. However, tonight he imagined his mother somewhere far away. A place so far away that he could never get to her. The last thing he imagined before passing out of exhaustion was the smile on his mother's face if she knew about the horrible pain he was feeling now.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Jonathan walked down the dark and deserted hallway of Gotham Middle School. The walls were stained with blood, the roof stained from rain. Spiderwebs were entangled in the corners and a large rat ran across Jonathan's feet. He continued walking, gripping his backpack straps tightly as he did so. Suddenly, Jonathan was pushed hard against the cracked concrete floor. _

"_Nice fall, Scarecrow!" Bellowed a deep and monstrous voice behind him. Jonathan turned and saw a large black figure towering over him, its eyes glowing bright red. _

"_P-Please," said Jonathan, shielding his face with his hands, "I don't want any trouble." The figure laughed, growing in size and physique with every breath. With a flash of bright light, five identical figures appeared behind the first, cracking their shadowy knuckles. _

"_Too late, nerd! Come on, guys," roared the first figure, "Let's teach the freak a lesson." _

"_I'm not a freak!" Cried Jonathan as the figures got closer and closer. More figures surrounded him as the first group prepared themselves to punch. These new figures pointed and laughed at him, taunting,_

"_Scarecrow! Scarecrow! Has no brains or strength to show!" Over and over again. The figures punched and kicked Jonathan, throwing his body against the rusty lockers and slamming his face through the dirty cracked windows. Though he was suffering, bloody and bruised, it was not his injuries that were causing him pain. It was the taunts that echoed through his mind, stabbing him like a sharp knife drenched in lemon juice and salt. The figures hung Jonathan from his back on a nearby flagpole, pointing and laughing maniacally as he hung lifeless with fear. _

"_Scarecrow!" Chanted the figures, their shadowy claws the only thing in Jonathan's sight. "Scarecrow! Has no brains or strength to show!" _

"_Stop it!" Shouted Jonathan, shutting his eyes tight and covering his ears. "Stop calling me that!" The taunting became louder and louder, until it became so loud that it made Jonathan's ears ring. He wailed in pain and pressed his palms harder into his ears, mentally praying it would block out the torment, but it didn't. "NO!" Yelled Jonathan, "STOP! STOP IT NOW! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" _

"Jonathan!" Jonathan awoke with a gasp, his body and sheets drenched in sweat. Marion stood over him, her long nose pointed up in a disapproving sneer. "Your insidious shouting woke me from my sleep." Jonathan looked around, relieved to find that the horror he experienced was just a bad dream.

"I'm sorry, Grandmother," said Jonathan, looking up at Marion, "I had another nightmare." Marion huffed and turned away.

"You didn't pray like I told you, did you Jonathan?" Jonathan said nothing. "I asked you a _question_, boy! Did you, or did you not, PRAY?!"

"I-I did, Grandmother, but it didn't wo-" Marion turned and slapped Jonathan across his face.

"How dare you, Jonathan! How dare you even infer that praying to our Heavenly Father would not work! It is not the Lord's fault you continue to have night terrors, it is your OWN! BECAUSE YOU ARE A SINNER!"

"Yes, Grandmother," said Jonathan, keeping his head down, "I beg your forgiveness, Grandmother." Marion took a deep breath and turned away from her great-grandson once more.

"Do not beg my forgiveness, child. Beg the Lord's."

"Yes, Grandmother...o-of course..." Marion walked toward the exit of Jonathan's room, but before she could walk out, "Grandmother, w-wait a moment!" Marion turned slowly to face Jonathan, an impatient scowl on her face.

"What is it, child? I have other things I need to attend to this morning." Jonathan gulped and let out a small sigh.

"Grandmother," he said hesitantly, "for a while now I've been having...problems...at school." Marion raised her silver eyebrow skeptically.

"Problems? What kind of problems?"

"Well," Jonathan kept his eyes down as he spoke, "the other kids...t-they're mean to me, Grandmother...They call me names and hurt me." Marion stared down at Jonathan expressionless, looking quite bored and uncaring.

"And what do you expect me to do about it, Jonathan?" Jonathan gasped lightly and looked up at his grandmother with shock. "God has put you in this situation to teach you a lesson, my dear boy. You must endure, then you will be rewarded." Jonathan looked horrified as a smirk grew on his grandmother's lips.

"B-But..." stammered Jonathan in slight panic, "I-I-I don't understand. You mean you're not going to help me?"

"How could I help you, child?"

"P-Perhaps you could just...home-school me?...Instead of...making me start high school..." Marion let out a sinister chuckle and patted the top of Jonathan's head.

"My dear boy," she said as she ran her claw-like fingernails across Jonathan's cheek, "that would require me to interfere with the plan Our Merciful Lord has already written for you...and you know I would never argue with the Lord for someone as insignificant as you." Jonathan winced as his grandmother's words pierced his heart. Even though Marion had never given him any reason to, deep down Jonathan cared for his grandmother and longed for her affection.

"Do not look so glum, child," Marion hissed, "you _will_ attend school and you _will_ endure. If you are as loyal to God as you have been so far, I'm sure he will reward you in your future. If not..." Marion's sharp nails scratched Jonathan's cheeks as she moved away from him. "...well," she continued softly, turning away from her grandson, "you were never meant to have a future in the first place, were you?" Jonathan hung his head low, his eyes tearing up with sadness. "Now hurry and get ready for your first day of high school," said Marion as she closed his door, "I'm certain you have an eventful day ahead of you."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jonathan stood in front of the bathroom mirror and began to brush his dark hair back with a wet comb. As he did so, he thought about the young man who was staring back at him. He hadn't spent this long in front of the mirror since the day his grandmother told him the truth about his parents. He had changed a lot in the last 6 years. It seemed like it was only yesterday when he was preparing himself for his first day of elementary school, and yet now he was readying himself for the toughest chapter of his educational career; high school. That little boy with slightly-chubby cheeks and a soft timid voice had grown up into a young man. The only things that hadn't seemed to age a day, however, were his bright blue eyes, still filled with the same curiosity and innocence since the day he was born.

Once Jonathan finished combing his hair, he took another look at his face. He stared at it in almost a perplexing manner, as if he was unsure if he was really looking at himself. He had high cheekbones, much like a model's, and plump, feminine, light pink lips. His chin was chiseled, along with his jawline, and his ears were rather small compared to the rest of his head. His hair was long enough that it curled upward at its edges, while still being short enough not to reach the end of his skinny neck. He had short bangs that fell onto his forehead, though he combed those to the side to look more refined.

Jonathan felt uncomfortable thinking about his appearance, so, after one last touch to his hair, he shut the bathroom light and exited. He grabbed his backpack, which was waiting for him against the hallway wall, placed it over his shoulders and walked into the kitchen. Marion was waiting for him there, sitting with her left hand resting on her lap as the other used a spoon to place cold lumpy oatmeal into her mouth. Looking at her in this light, Jonathan realized that Marion was just as vile as he had always remembered her to be. She had gotten thinner with age, however, making her look even more like a walking bone bag, and her skin even paler than before. She breathed heavier now as well, like a killer from a scary movie on the other line of the telephone.

"I see you did as you were told," she said in her raspy voice, "Good boy. Come, sit, eat your breakfast before it gets cold. You'll need your strength for school today."

"Actually, Grandmother," said Jonathan, his voice slightly deeper and stronger than when he was child, yet still developing, "I wanted to get a head start on my walk to school. You know, so I can be early and 'ready to give my brain up to Jesus.' So...can I take the bread with me?" Marion grunted in annoyance, then declared,

"Fine." Jonathan bowed his head respectfully, then picked up the dry hard piece of bread.

"Thank you, Grandmother," he said, then headed for the door.

"May God watch over you, Jonathan" said Marion in a dark, haunting manner. Jonathan closed the door behind him and headed out on his usual route to the city. It was cold in Gotham that morning, but then again, it usually was. Jonathan disliked the summer time, but he always missed the warm rays of the sun during the fall. The sun never seemed to rise in Gotham during the fall, its light never escaping the dark and gloomy clouds that shrouded the city. Jonathan walked along the sidewalk until he came to _Jervis's Jolly Good Books_. A tiny bell rang as he walked in the bookstore.

"Hey, Jonathan! You're early today."

"Good morning, Alice," replied Jonathan with a shy smile, "I wanted to get here early so I wouldn't have worry about rushing out because I'll be late to school."

Alice Merriweather had been working at Jervis's bookstore for almost 3 years now. She was about two years younger than Jervis with long blonde hair, fair skin, and green eyes. She was wearing a long blue sweater with a pair of black leggings and boots to match. She was stacking books on the shelf behind her as she spoke.

"Very smart!" Chuckled Alice, her demure voice almost squealing with delight. "I'll tell Jervis you're here."

"Thank you," said Jonathan with a smile. He waited patiently for his friend, looking at the new trinkets Jervis had added to the store. There weren't many. For the most part, the store looked the same as it always did for the past 6 years. However, occasionally Jervis would get something new, like a stuffed rabbit or a new set of china.

"Jonathan!" Jonathan turned to see Jervis standing in the doorway between the back of the store and the front. "Oh, it is truly a delight to see you again, my friend!" Jervis wrapped his arms tightly around Jonathan, who looked uncomfortable as Jervis squeezed him into a hug.

"Hello, Jervis," gasped Jonathan, "It's nice to see you too, but, I just saw you yesterday. There's no need to squeeze the breath out of me!"

"Oh!" Jervis giggled and released Jonathan from his hug. "My bad, my bad, oh my very bad. Are you alright? Are you set? Oh please, oh please, don't be upset!" Jonathan chuckled and wiped some dust off his caramel-colored sweater.

"I'm okay," he said with a small smile. "Don't worry about it." Jervis clapped his hands together quickly and hopped up and down.

"Splendid! Splendid!" Jonathan chuckled softly to himself, Jervis's energy and happiness infecting him. What Jonathan loved most about Jervis was that he seemed to be the only small glimmer of excitement and joy in a city so dark and corrupted. No matter how hard Jonathan's days were during elementary and middle school, he could always count on Jervis to make him smile. "Now," said Jervis, wrapping his arms around Jonathan's shoulders, "your grandmother didn't see you coming here, did she?" Jervis asked him the question every day and yet Jonathan always forgot he was forbidden to see his friend. He never understood why Marion didn't approve of Jervis or what made her think of him as a "devil." He didn't really care either way though, he was kind of selfish in that way. Jervis made him feel good, like he wasn't truly alone. That was something he wasn't going to let his grandmother take away.

"Uh, no." Replied Jonathan. "She was eating when I left. Plus, she never looks out the window to watch me leave. I don't think she cares enough..." Jonathan mumbled the last sentence to himself and, much like his words, his thoughts trailed off. He didn't want to think about his grandmother, he wanted to enjoy the time he had with his old friend.

"_Mar_velous!" Exclaimed Jervis with a smile. "Now we can have some tea and chat without any worry of interruption!" Jervis giggled and skipped to the back room. Jonathan rolled his eyes with a smile and followed him. The back room was decorated with similar trinkets as the front of the store, plus some unique paintings on the wall. Jonathan recognized them to be scenes from the book _Alice in Wonderland, _one being a river of tea pouring out the spouts of large teapots and the other being pitch black with nothing but a long slightly sinister smile.

"I like the new paintings," said Jonathan, running his hand across the wall as he approached the long dining table in the center of the room. Jervis was sitting at the very end of the table in an oversized chair, pouring tea into two small porcelain teacups and placing them onto saucers.

"Do you really?! Oh, how I hoped you would! I painted them myself, you know." Jonathan smiled in amazement at Jervis.

"You _really_ painted these?" He asked in awe, "That's incredible, Jervis!"

"It's just a simple hobby, my dear boy," smiled Jervis, "You make it sound like it was easy. No, no, no. Come, come, sit! I'll tell you more as we sip our tea." Jonathan did as he was told and listened carefully as Jervis went into detail on his painting process, his favorite type of tea, and the new chemistry project he and Alice were working on for their class at Gotham University. He explained that Alice and himself were working on a way to get mice to finish a maze without using electric shock or any other way that isn't considered humane.

"Have you found anything yet?" Asked Jonathan as he sipped his tea. "I would love to know how your project progresses, if that's alright with you two." Jervis chuckled and ruffled up Jonathan's hair.

"Silly boy," he laughed. "It's always alright! We're friends, after all."

"Of course," said Jonathan timidly, blushing lightly, "my bad." Jervis smiled once more, then he spoke.

"Alice and I haven't found much yet, but I've been getting close to discovering a way for us to manipulate the brainwaves of the mice using commonly produced chemicals in the synapses of their neurons so that we can control their movements in the maze without causing them any harm." Jonathan's eyes widened. He had never been so intrigued before.

"Synapes and neurons? What are those? They're in the brain, right? So what do they do? Are they good?" Before Jervis could answer any of Jonathan's questions, the large clock in the back of the room struck loudly.

"Poo," said Jervis with a pout, " we were just getting started. I'm sorry Jonathan, but if you don't get to school soon, you'll be late."

"Aw, man..." Mumbled Jonathan to himself sadly. Jervis noticed his disappointment and rose to his feet. He walked to the front of the store and scanned one of the shelves carefully. Jonathan followed and watched as Jervis's index finger passed spine to spine.

"There you are," whispered Jervis as he pulled out a beatup green book, "you nasty little thing." Jervis walked over to Jonathan and handed him the book.

"What's this?" Asked Jonathan, examining the dusty old book from head to toe.

"That is a book on the biology and psychology of the human mind," said Jervis, walking behind the counter next to Alice. "It'll have the answers to your questions and many more. It's a little challenging, but you're a smart lad so I know you'll finish it in a day." Jonathan rolled his eyes with a smiled and tucked the book into his backpack.

"Thank you, Jervis!" Called Jonathan as he exited the book store. "Bye you guys! See you tomorrow!" Jervis snickered as he watched his little friend leave the store.

"Such a curious little beastie, isn't he?"

"Yeah," replied Alice with a playful nudge to Jervis's arm, "Gotham needs more curious people." With a smile, Alice walked into the back room, humming a light tune to herself. As she walked, Jervis stared longingly at her and let out an infatuated sigh.

"You coming, Jervis?" Called Alice from the back room. "I can't dust all these books on my own!" Jervis giggled and swooned in complete bliss.

"I'm coming!" He called back. "My dear sweet Alice."


End file.
